Pounce
by Suki
Summary: I know you. And I know her. She's irresistable when she's so naive.


Usagi deftly avoided tripping over her own shoelaces and juggled a plastic sack full of goodies with her ugly yet functional schoolbag. At last, she alighted on the sixth floor landing, ungracefully balancing, her blonde wisping hair swirling around her clumsily.

Room number 6B. This was it.

She knocked on the door brightly and sighed happily, glancing around her like an inquisitive child. A mere seconds later, the clicking of the door echoed in the hallway, and a pleasantly surprised Haruka was greeted by a chipper moon-rabbit school-girl.

"Hi, Haruka-chan!"

"Hey." The taller woman entertained an amused look, her eyes tracing the girl from head to feet, then back up again. "To what do I owe the honor, Odango?" she grinned, opening the door wide to allow Usagi entrance.

"Not you," the long-haired one scolded friendlily, peeking around the threshold of the door before scuttling inside and sliding off her shoes. "Michiru-san. I heard she twisted her ankle. I've come to see her." She held up her plastic bag of confections eagerly. "I brought her some sweets."

"I see," Haruka touched the bottom of it with her fingertips, while the heavy door closed softly behind her. "She's in the bedroom right now. Why don't you go on in and see her?"

Usagi nodded, like a woman on a mission, and walked with a lilting step through the entrance and past the kitchen, through the apartment living room and down a hall to the bedroom, familiar with her surroundings. Haruka, shaking her head and smiling to herself, went into the kitchen to put on some tea.

Usagi halted at the bedroom door. Knocked softly. A muffled assent filtered through, and Usagi opened the door gently and stepped inside.

She stopped in awe. The room was swathed in draping white fabrics. Soft tranquil blues wove into the carpet, touched the banistered four-post bed and graced the walls. In ever spare corner, there were canvasses, some blank, some splashed with color, and some complete in fantastic and visionary shapes. There were even a few portraits. One small canvas sat on a stand in the corner of the room, nearest the balcony doors. It looked like a profile of a short-haired blond woman. But before Usagi could squint and inspect it further, she heard Michiru's voice, soft and deep, ushering her over.

Usagi remembered her task and approached the bed. Propped up on huge white pillows, Michiru sat, sketchbooks and charcoals sprawled out around her.

"Hello," she said, nodding. Her greetings were always warm but something in her voice remained distant.

"I've brought you something," Usagi said cheerfully, offering up the bag of powered cookies and candies. "I hope you feel better."

"Why, thank you," Michiru said, holding out her hand to retrieve the gift. Have a seat.

Usagi looked about her and found an upholstered armchair near the bedside. She scooted it over and sat lightly, facing the elegant woman with teal waving hair.

"I'm sorry you're confined to bed," Usagi said amiably, resting her chin on her hand absently.

"It's not so bad, really," Michiru replied. "It actually gives me a chance to rest. And," here she motioned to the collection of artistic paraphernalia spread about on her bedsheet, "to spend some time on my artwork."

Usagi nodded somberly, admiration laced in dewy blue eyes. "When I used to get sick when I was little, my mother would buy me little gifts to make me feel better." She lightly touched a jagged sheet of paper balancing on the edge of Michiru's bed. "Once, she even bought me some markers and a sketchbook! Oh, what fun I had!" she laughed. "But my drawings were horrible."

Michiru laughed as well, a sound like bells chiming. "Well, Usagi, you know what they say . . . as long as one person is pleased, then you've done something worthwhile."

Usagi took this gravely, as if uttered from a divine sage, and nodded. "You're so mature and grown up, Michiru-san."

She laughed again. "Well. It's not something that I work on."

Usagi seemed surprised. "No?"

"Really, silly girl," the older woman reproached. "When you learn just to be yourself, grace follows naturally."

"I don't know," Usagi said, turning her eyes down hesitantly. She bit her lip, then glanced up quickly. "I wish I had your poise. Especially with . . .."

"With?" Michiru nudged her chin forward ever-so-slightly.

"Well," Usagi looked around the room, as if expecting a bug-eyed Minako or scowling Rei to pop out from behind the draperies. "When I'm with Mamoru," she said, wiggling her eyebrows knowingly, in what Michiru assumed was supposed to be earnestness but which made her choke to keep her laughter back.

She couldn't help but to lead her on. She smoothed her creamy features. "What do you mean?" she asks innocently.

Usagi leaned in closer. "Well, when he . . ."

"Yes . . .?"

"When he kisses me!"

This time, she couldn't keep a short laugh from escaping. Usagi looked shocked, but Michiru quickly amended her mistake.

"I'm sorry, Usagi-san," she said graciously. "Is that really all you're worried about?"

The blonde girl blinked at her. "Well . . . yes. I mean, what else would I be . . .." She trailed off, a bright blush invading her cheeks as the meaning sunk in to her. Her little hands shot up like daggers, waving spastically about the air in front of her. "Not – not – _no_!"

Michiru couldn't resist. "No? Never?"

"Well, it's . . . we're . . . Mamo-chan is very gentle and . . .."

"Calm down," Michiru said, trying not to look smug. "Look, if kissing's all you're concerned about, that's something I can help you with."

Usagi's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Sure!" Putting her hands down on the bedspread and smoothing her sheets, she readjusted herself. "Come sit here with me."

Usagi immediately obeyed, nudging a few stray papers and erasers out of her way so she could sit facing Michiru.

"Now," Michiru said, trying to keep from grinning. "Close your eyes."

Usagi did.

"Think about it," Michiru said softly. "Think about being in the ocean. You're moving with the waves. Everything's flowing."

Usagi's eyelashes fluttered.

"Just relax," she said. "Your grace will come naturally."

Usagi's eyes opened slowly. She frowned a little. "How is this supposed to work?" she asked.

"Would you like to see?" Michiru winked.

Usagi looked at her. A strange knowledge settled across her features.

Michiru smirked. Leaned in. Kissed her gently on the mouth. Usagi was very still.

But Michiru was very skilled.

When she leaned back, Usagi's thin brows were raised nearly to her hairline, eyes wide. "So that's how," she whispered.

"Uh-huh," Michiru nodded.

A few minutes later, after Usagi had scuttled out of the room and opened the door to the apartment, bowing to Haruka and apologizing profusely for not being able to stay for tea, Haruka slipped into the bedroom and sat down across from her teal-haired mistress.

Michiru had a satisfied look on her face as she scribbled on her sketchbook.

"Michiru . . .," Haruka warned.

"Hm?" Not looking up.

"I know what you did."

"Do you?"

"Shame on you," Haruka clucked. "Seducing the poor little bunny like that."

Michiru's eyes jumped up, startled.

"That's right," Haruka grinned, leaning in on her. "I know you. And I know her. She's irresistible when she's so naive."

Michiru scowled.

"Don't be angry," Haruka sat back, folding her arms in triumph. "I won't go after her. Not unless . . .."

"Unless," Michiru's eye twitched.

"Unless next time you invite me, too!"


End file.
